"You don't seem to like Star-Lord?"
Clark asked Mark on their way to school.
"Yes, I don't like him because he looks like an insufferable idiot. I think Dad should send him back to the Kavachi Tribe to live with Miss Kelly."
Mark stated that the tribe was where he should go, not continue to stay on the farm and be an eyesore.
"Why should he live with Miss Kelly?"
Clark asked, puzzled.
"Because he is Miss Kelly's child."
Mark brought up his previous assertion again, "Kelly can transform into a White Wolf, and Star-Lord turned into a pig before he was three. Doesn't this prove that he inherited Kelly's talent?"
Clark: "..."
He scratched his head and said to Mark, "I don't think Star-Lord is too fat. At most, he's just strong."
"Are you serious?"
Mark looked at him in surprise, "He's already become like Darr. Isn't that fat?"
As the two were discussing whether Star-Lord was fat or strong, a scavenger walked past them.
The scavenger looked like a dirty "werewolf," sniffing around.
His figure was thin, his limbs long, and he moved with a comical "dance" as if enjoying music that no one else could hear.
His long brown hair was pulled tightly to the sides and tied with a rubber band on top of his head.
A pungent smell assailed their nostrils, giving them no time to dodge.
Mark saw him constantly picking at scabs on his arm and noticed his unusual teeth.
"Hey, how are you?"
The scavenger said in a friendly manner as he walked towards them.
"Get lost! Otherwise, I'll shoot you dead with my Laser Eyes! Get out of here! Damn it!"
Mark cursed at him without ceremony.
The scavenger was startled by Mark's fierce display. After a moment, he glanced at Clark, who was equally stunned, and walked away dejectedly.
"John, why did you treat him that way?"
Clark asked, puzzled.
Normally, Mark, although not fond of vagrants, wouldn't directly curse at them.
Could it be because Mark had been in a bad mood recently?
"Because he's an addict."
Mark glanced at the vagrant, shrugged, and said, "Dad said to always stay away from people like that."
Clark asked in surprise, "How did you know?"
"I saw his teeth. Judging by their color and stability, it won't be long before they break off like falling icicles."
Mark indicated that his super vision was no joke.
"People like that will die in prison, die injecting some sweet Mexico Brown into their arms, or take risks for drugs, robbing banks or going on 'zero-dollar shopping sprees,' and finally getting beaten to death."
"They only have these two endings. Dad said such people aren't worth pitying."
He exhaled and continued to explain to Clark, "And they can't quit. Drugs aren't like milk; you can't just quit whenever you want. So... Dad told us to stay away from that stuff."
Clark swallowed, "I'll also stay away from those terrible things."
"Addictive things aren't just drugs, Clark. Gluttony is also an addiction, just like Star-Lord. I estimate that sooner or later he'll end up like that vagrant we just met."
As the two spoke, they arrived at school, just in time to see the football team's training session.
Clark saw Lana next to the football team.
Lana was sitting in the stands, giggling and discussing something with her best friend.
Clark glanced at Lana, then looked wistfully at the players on the field.
He had loved football since he was a child, but due to his physical condition, he could never join the football team.
"Don't look, Clark, she'll never look at you that way."
Mark grumbled at him, "Unless you can convince your father to let you become a football player."
Clark reluctantly took one last look at Lana, then quickly followed Mark's departing steps.
"Perhaps Godfather can convince my father."
Clark's father, Jonathan Kent, had always been against his son joining the football team.
He hoped his Godfather would help convince his father.
"Impossible, because Mr. Kent is the most stubborn person. Even Dad can't persuade him."
"Alright."
Clark lowered his head in frustration.
He knew Mark was right.
"Why don't you play football, John?"
He asked Mark curiously, "Godfather wouldn't stop you from participating in such activities, would he?"
"Because I don't want to be a TV sports star."
Mark looked at the players on the field, "I don't like being judged."
As the two walked past the field, Whitney, from the team, saw Clark walking behind.
Thinking of embarrassing Clark, he picked up a football and shouted, "Hey, Clark!"
Clark heard the sound and turned around, only to see a football rapidly enlarging in his vision.
"Bang!"
Clark steadily caught the football Whitney threw.
"Good catch!"
The other members of the football team shouted at him when they saw Clark's catch.
Clark smiled, gripped the ball, and then threw it to Whitney.
The football, with some force added by him, was thrown heavily towards Whitney.
Whitney was startled to see the lightning-fast throw and quickly caught it with his hands.
But because the ball had too much force, it slipped from his hands and hit him in the stomach.
Whitney clutched his stomach and let out a muffled groan.
The team coach, who witnessed everything from the side, watched Clark's retreating back, his eyes narrowing.
Afternoon.
Clark was packing his things, preparing to go home.
Watt, the football team coach, called out to him.
"Clark?"
Clark didn't expect the team coach to greet him; he was slightly stunned.
"Coach, hello."
"I saw your throw this morning. Your technique is a bit rough, but your power is strong."
The coach praised Clark's throw, then asked, "Why haven't you joined our team?"
"I have to do farm work at home."
Coach Watt regretfully shook his head, "You should use your talent on the field. There's a game at school recently, and we're short on players. If you want to participate, you can come anytime."
Clark was somewhat tempted, but thinking of his father's attitude, he said somewhat dejectedly, "My father won't agree."
"I remember,"
Coach Watt thought for a moment, "Your father is Jonathan Kent, right? He was the most talented player I ever coached. I've seen you gaze at your father's photo in the school trophy cabinet. You must really want to participate in this kind of activity, right?"
"I…"
Clark hesitated, "I need to think about it."
Coach Watt patted his shoulder, "I know you're worried about your father stopping you, Clark, but we're all growing up. One day you'll break free from your father's Shadow and become a true man, don't you think?"
Clark hesitated, then looked up and saw Lana walking towards them.
He took a deep breath, made up his mind, and said to the coach, "Yes, Coach, I'm willing to participate."
"Great, report to me at 3 PM, changed into your uniform."
In the evening, Clark returned to Kent Farm.
Jonathan was repairing the tractor.
"Wait…"
Jonathan wiped his hands with a rag and asked Clark, "You agreed to him?"
"Coach Watt didn't give me a chance to refuse."
"Uh-huh."
Jonathan put down the wrench and faced Clark: "Let me guess, he must have told you to 'become a true man,' right?"
"He's been using the same line for twenty years. I've heard it countless times."
Jonathan walked to the back of the tractor, bent down to pick up the repair tools, and at the same time said to him, "You must tell the coach tomorrow afternoon that you cannot join the football team."
Hearing that his father wouldn't let him join, the smile on Clark's face quickly disappeared. He quickly walked to his father's side and pleaded, "Dad, don't be like that!"
"I'm sorry, but we've already talked about this, Clark."
Clark looked at Jonathan with disbelief, "This isn't a conversation. I'll be careful, but you never trust me."
"Of course, I trust you, Clark, but…"
"But what, Dad? I'm ten years old. I can make decisions on the field!"
Jonathan walked to the front of the tractor, tidying up the items, and said to Clark, "You can't. On the field, many things will affect your judgment. If you get angry, or if you want to show off for some girl, someone will get seriously hurt."
He patted Clark's shoulder, "You, Clark, you have a more important mission to fulfill than winning U.S. football."
"I will control myself. Godfather has always taught me how to control my strength, and Mr. Jones also taught me meditation to control my emotions, Dad. I won't let anyone get hurt."
Jonathan shook his head, "You're not mature enough yet, Clark."
Hearing his father's words, Clark's anger immediately surged.
He raised his voice and said angrily, "I've had enough! I've had enough of being punished for my talent!"
Clark looked at his father in disappointment, "Most parents are happy for their sons to join the football team. I don't understand why you keep stopping me."
Jonathan stood up and looked at Clark, "Because—I don't need to live off your achievements."
Clark exhaled, letting his anger calm down, "You used to play ball. Why do you stop me?"
Jonathan's expression also became serious, "I will not sign the permission slip!"
"I don't need you to sign."
Clark looked into his father's eyes, showing no sign of backing down, "I'll have Godfather sign it for me. You can't stop me."
With that, he turned and walked outside.
"Where are you going?"
Seeing Clark leave without looking back, Jonathan asked with a frown.
Stopping, Clark turned around, "I'm going to stay at Godfather's place. I won't be back tonight. Also, if it's Godfather, he'll trust me, not always doubt me like you do."
After Clark finished speaking, he left with a look of disappointment.
Jonathan watched his son's retreating back, then sadly put down the repair tools in his hand.